


Writing Between the Lines

by MabtheWinterQueen



Series: Disability Fics [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Deaf!Will, Disability 'verse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Minor Character Death, Mute!Nico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabtheWinterQueen/pseuds/MabtheWinterQueen
Summary: Learning ASL is hard, but for Nico di Angelo, what turns out to be harder is not falling for the deaf son of Apollo teaching him the new language.Outtake from "Disability Stability". Does this make sense as a stand-alone? Yes. Do I recommend reading what this is from first? Also yes.





	Writing Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know if this has a plot, but I love Will and Nico and people seemed to react pretty positively to the Disability ’verse, so here we are. This takes place just after the Second Giant War. It's an in-the-middle shot of "Disability Stability" and one of a few outtakes I'm writing.

_He’s running, but there’s nowhere to run. One little jar full of him, with nowhere to go. He’s being chased by – a werewolf? Maybe, but it doesn’t look like Lycaon’s pack. It howls savagely, and the howls are combined with the wails of the damned, the screeching of arae, the screams of a drakon, the cackling of an old deity. The sounds of the Pit._

_He scrabbles at the walls with blunt fingernails, finding no purchase in the thick glass. He reaches for a sword that isn’t there. He sends up a prayer to his father, but it will never be received._

_He turns around, the slobbering “werewolf” almost at his heels, and shuts his eyes._

            He wakes in a cold sweat, thrashing, having already thrown off his bedsheets. He sobs near-silently, bringing his knees up to his chest. He knows it’s ridiculous – in the depths of his mind, he knows that the “werewolf” was the product of Frank introducing him and Hazel to _Supernatural_ , that the jar was actually a lot smaller than in his dream, that he never even heard the wails of the damned in the Pit – but he can’t seem to calm down.

 

            Logic says this is a panic attack. The part of his brain that reminds him of Will Solace says that it’s normal for trauma survivors. The part of his brain that is currently in **_CODE RED: DANGER_** mode doesn’t really care.

 

            When he manages to calm himself, he grabs the infirmary bedsheets off the floor, makes the bed – well, cot – neatly, and sets off down the row of sleeping patients.

 

            Sometimes, one really just needs to be alone and think.

 

…

 

Will has been told many times over that he’ll never be able to be a doctor like he wants, so much that he’s given up on protesting. He’d never be able to hear an emergency – if a patient’s heart monitor goes off, he’d never know. There are those who try to be covert in their ableism – trying to be comforting, to be kind, to say that wouldn’t he like to do anything else? Then there are those who take one look at him and laugh, who tell him there’s no room in the world for someone like him.

 

            All in all, it just makes him more determined to do it.

 

            He works in the infirmary most days (and nights, when he can’t sleep). He loves helping people, even if it means he sacrifices his social calendar.

 

            It really shouldn’t even be a surprise when he finds Nico di Angelo wandering the halls shortly after the war. He was badly scarred by its events, and not all of those are scars Will knows how to heal.

 

            He signs a greeting. Nico gives a shrug in return and slumps against a wall, sliding down slowly. He’s really not made much progress in speaking English nor ASL, and Will sets out to remedy this, sitting down next to the broody teen and smiling brightly.

 

            He can’t heal all of Nico’s scars, but he can help them to fade, just a little.

 

…

 

Nico scowls at this intrusion of his privacy and opens his mouth only for no sound to emit. He snaps it shut audibly (not that Will would know) and stares at his knees, a silent message that he’s not interested in talking.

 

            Will won’t take no for an answer, it seems, because he shoves a notepad into Nico’s hands with a pre-written “Hey there!” written in handwriting only bested in illiteracy by Percy Jackson himself. Will’s dyslexia must be bad, because half of the words are misspelled. There’s a sun in the dot in the exclamation mark, and Nico never knew that such a peppy person could survive infancy. He pushes it back towards Will, who starts scribbling away before showing him “How’d you like to learn ASL?”

           

            Nico’s scowl furthers and he almost snarls. He grabs the notepad violently and writes in perfect cursive, “I don’t need your pity”. Will gets his kicked-puppy look when he finally manages to decipher it, which is almost as bad as the Percy Jackson Puppy-Dog Eyes, and writes, “I don’t pity you. I just think it’d be a good idea for you to learn how to communicate without talking or writing.”

 

            Nico contemplates this for a moment. Talking is – out of the question. Writing takes a while. Learning ASL would come in handy. “Fine” is all he replies, but Will’s face lights up like the top of the Chrysler building and he waves his hands ecstatically.

 

            Nico puts his head in his hands. What has he agreed to?

 

…

 

Nico seems reluctant for the first few days, but he eventually comes out of his shell when he realizes that he can use ASL to talk about idiots right under their noses. Will takes pride in the fact that Nico seems to be getting a lot more open in his body language, too, and he no longer looks like he’s going to melt into the shadows at any given moment.

 

            “Eat,” Will demands, shoving a plate of food in his direction. The Italian huffs, crossing his arms in a gesture clearly meant to imply _I neither wish to eat nor argue about it_. Well, tough luck, because Will glares at him sternly. “Doctor’s orders.”

 

            Nico coughs a laugh, a small exhale of breathy amusement. “You’re not a doctor.”

 

            “I am when I’m here, and as your _medical provider_ –” he has to spell out some words that Nico hasn’t learned yet “– I’m ordering you to eat.”

 

            The brunet scowls, taking the fork and stabbing a piece of scrambled egg like it personally killed his whole family, and Will cheers mentally.

 

            “Maybe you’ll finally start looking more like an Italian than a corpse now,” he teases when he can get Nico’s attention, and the shorter boy huffs a breathy laugh, much to his surprise. He grins.

 

            “We need to work on more ASL later,” Will reminds him, and he turns his head away from the blond in annoyance. Will crosses his arms and kicks him under the table. “This is important.”

           

            Nico’s brow furrows to deepen the look of an angry cat and he quickly signs, “I think I’m doing just fine.”

           

            “You are,” Will agrees, “but you could be doing better.”

           

            A sigh.

 

            “You know, in conversation, most ASL-speakers don’t spell out words. They’re going to use words you don’t know. You can’t just half-learn a language. You’ll only crash and burn that way.”

 

            “What do you know about learning languages?” the shorter teen signs rapidly, standing up abruptly and almost knocking over a glass in his hurry to get away from the overeager infirmary worker. Will follows behind at a jog until Nico slams his cabin door, unable to talk unless someone’s looking at him and wishing not for the first time that he could hear the sound of the angry wood.

 

…

 

Nico buries his head in his knees and sobs. Somewhere, he knows that he treated Will unfairly, that nothing he said was actually wrong, but the larger part of him shoves it down to wallow for a while.

 

            It’s really not Will’s fault. How could he have known about Bianca?

 

            He’s not really feeling like eating lunch, so he doesn’t, knowing the son of Apollo won’t come and get him so soon after his transgression. What he didn’t count for was how stubborn Percy Jackson could be.

 

            It’s 5:00 when he gets a knock on his door and he’s feeling good enough to answer, anticipating Will there to force-feed him again.

 

            He instead gets a grinning son of Poseidon and quickly shuts the door as soon as it’d been opened.

 

            “Aw, c’mon, Nico, not cool!” Percy complains from the other side. “I was hoping you’d let me talk.”

 

            Nico opens the door cautiously. “You aren’t here to force me to dinner?”

 

            Percy squints, brows furrowing in a way Nico may or may not still think is incredibly attractive. “What?”

 

            Nico mentally slaps himself upside the head and writes down the same question.

 

            Percy laughs a little. “No, man! I just thought, maybe, you know…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I heard you were having a bad day and I remembered…”

 

            Nico cuts him off with a written “I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you anymore.”

 

            His (technical) cousin raises a weak smile. “Thanks, but I’m not here to make sure you know that.” He gestures to the inside of the cabin. “May I?”

 

            Nico moves out of the way, and Percy settles on the bed.

 

            “Look, man, I know what it’s like to miss someone. I haven’t lost a sister or anything, but I lost my mom a while and I about went crazy. I don’t know what kind of mood I’d be in if it were the anniversary of her death. I just wanted you to know I’m here for you, and for what it’s worth, I miss Bianca too. I didn’t know her long, but I know she was a good sister, and a good person.”

 

            Nico doesn’t respond for a long moment before attacking Percy in a hug, startling the older teen when he starts crying silently into the bright orange shirt.

 

            “Whoa,” the son of Poseidon exhales, giving him a few awkward pats on the back. “I wasn’t… expecting that.”

 

            Nico shoves off, sitting next to him in silence.

 

            “No words?”

 

            Head shake.

 

            “Okay.”

 

…

 

When Nico doesn’t show up to dinner, it’s only a medical emergency that keeps Will from storming over to his cabin with a fully-prepared speech on health and safety for teenagers, but eventually he gets away from the infirmary and marches over to Cabin 13.

 

            Only to run right into Percy Jackson.

 

            The older teen laughs and helps him up, chattering something Will can’t catch. (Have you ever tried lip-reading? Try it. It is NOT easy.)

 

            He makes an “o” face, eyes lighting up in recognition, before he pulls out a small notepad and writes, “Sorry, man!” (His dyslexia rivals Will’s.)

 

            Will waves it off with what he hopes is a laugh and writes “What are you doing over here?”

 

            “Visiting Nico” is his response, and that piques Will’s interest.

 

            “He wasn’t really having a good day when I last saw him.”

 

            Percy looks troubled for a minute before writing “Maybe it’s not a good idea to talk to him until tomorrow. Today is not a good day to be Nico.”

 

            Will frowns but agrees, and the matter is settled until tomorrow.

 

…

 

“Hey,” Will greets him cheerfully the next morning, like nothing ever happened, like Nico never snapped at him.

 

            “I’m sorry,” he replies before he even really thinks about it, and the look on Will’s face is comical.

 

            “Not a typical response, but I’ll take it,” the son of Apollo jokes.

 

            “I’m sorry I was mean to you yesterday,” he elaborates, and Will stiffens ever-so-slightly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

            “I’d guessed as much when Percy Jackson told me you weren’t having a good day. He’s about as observant as a brick wall –” a laugh “- so I figured it must be serious. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here.”

 

            Nico’s heart falls even further at Will’s understanding nature. He’s really the perfect doctor.

 

            “My sister died.”

 

            “Hazel?” Will signs in shock.

 

            “No. Bianca. When I was ten.”

 

            Will puts two and two together and finally they make four. “I’m so sorry.”

 

            Nico bites his lip. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

 

            Will looks right into his eyes. “I know, but I’m still sorry.”

 

            Nico might smile, but damned if he’ll ever admit it.

 

…

 

Years later, Nico still wanders the infirmary corridors in a hazy state, and Will still finds him.

 

            “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m here.”

 

            Silence. A bitten lip. A whispered lie. “I know.”

 

            Will’s heart shatters again. “I’m still here.”

 

            Hands digging into his shirt become claws searching for purchase against the memories.

 

            “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here,” Will thinks, unable to voice it.

 

            I’m here.

**Author's Note:**

> That rendition of a PTSD dream is from research and a little bit of experience - the panic attack is also a little research and mostly my own experience, because part of me knows that I should not be hyperventilating over a dream and I'm never going back, but majority of my brain says BAD THING HAPPENING and so logic is ignored.


End file.
